


Milkshake and Honey

by Jennifer-Oksana (JenniferOksana)



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alcohol, Car Sex, F/F, Femslash, Fingerfucking, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Road Trips, Secret Evil Character, Sex, Slash, Smut, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 00:05:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4981951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferOksana/pseuds/Jennifer-Oksana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Girls, booze, sex, and control on a slow southern night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Milkshake and Honey

**Author's Note:**

> “I’ve always been a guy with a sweet tooth  
> And that girl was just like a king-sized candy bar…” –Sleater-Kinney

 

She holds the silver flask to Buffy’s lips, watching the way the skin on Buffy’s throat moves as she swallows another shot of the strawberry vodka they bought off a guy in Austin. The air’s artificially frigid, and below her, Buffy’s bare nipples are hard and straining for Cordy’s touch.

They’ve been driving for weeks, fucking for days, and when the car broke down in Beaumont, Buffy and Cordelia took it as a sign and hitchhiked into town, knowing that if anyone was stupid enough to think two girls in cut-offs and wifebeaters meant porno roadside orgy, they’d be eating their twig and berries for dinner.

Buffy’s hair looks so much better short than Cordelia’s ever did. They did it two hours ago, Cordelia cutting it short and shaggy and putting in the brunette lowlights to go with the dirty blonde shade they dyed it in Little Rock. It makes her look defiant, wild, ragged around the edges, and it turns Cordy the fuck on.

“This is SO bad for us,” Buffy murmurs, licking her lips clean and going around again for good measure before rolling them over so she can straddle Cordy. “Have another drink, Cor.”

The vodka’s sweet, almost covering up the hairspray aftertaste that goes with homemade booze. Cordelia takes a good long drink and pushes the flask away from Buffy, shivering in the cold of the air conditioning. Better than outside, though. Beaumont in August after a thunderstorm’s unbearable. The air’s pregnant with water, thick and oppressive against skin. It smells like Pirates of the Caribbean to Cordelia, a child of the almost-desert who doesn’t understand humidity, just enjoys its effects.

If she closes her eyes, she can remember watching the thin cotton of Buffy’s shirt clinging to her stomach and breasts, smelling the want on Buffy’s skin as they went to get coke, candy, and ice from the machine.

It also reminds her of how they’d ruined the cokes when Buffy shoved Cordelia against the candy machine and started kissing the hell out of her, her tongue thrusting into Cordy’s warm and willing mouth as she started grinding into her crotch.

Having a Slayer as a fuckbuddy-cum-Louise on this indefinite cross-country road trip was sometimes a fabulous, fabulous thing.

Cordy reaches up and cups Buffy’s breast, thumbing the hard nub of her nipple. Buffy moans and rocks against Cordelia, arching her back and closing her eyes. They haven’t been doing this long — not even a week yet, truth be told — and Buffy’s already lost all her inhibitions. She’s flushed and her mouth is open. Wanton. Needy.

“I want you,” Cordy says, pulling Buffy down to her and kissing her again, her other hand slipping between their bodies and into Buffy’s panties. “God, girl, you’re so wet…”

“Mm-hmm,” Buffy says, eyes bright with booze and lust. “Fuck me?”

“Hell yes,” Cordelia says, forgetting that this started as a rescue mission. The Rescue Cordelia mission. LA is a million (well, a couple thousand) miles away from this, from the way Buffy’s flesh parts, hot and sweet, for Cordelia’s fingers, to the way she’s mewling and licking at Cordy’s neck and earlobe, to the part where her fingers are rubbing at Cordelia’s breasts.

“Oh, like that,” Buffy moans as Cordelia thrusts in and out of the other woman, adding a second finger when one isn’t enough. “Yesssss…”

Not even air conditioning can hide the flush of heat coming off Buffy, the way she’s trying to get Cordy’s fingers as deep into her as she can as she slips her own hand between them, angling for Cordelia’s clit.

They were going to protect each other. From Angel. Angel who’d been corrupted by the power and the aura of Wolfram and Hart, who’d been making decisions he had no right to make.

“So good,” Cordy keens, adding a third finger. “You like that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Buffy agrees, her body rubbing up and down rhythmically as her tongue flicks in and out, wetting her lower lip occasionally. “It’s so good, baby, yes–”

Cordy moves Buffy’s hand away from her clit and up to her mouth, sucking two fingers into her mouth. It makes Buffy moan and get tighter and wetter around Cordelia’s fingers. There’s never been anything this good, the feel of Buffy’s thin, wiry body moving against Cordelia like she’d rather die than have Cordy stop, her hair falling forward against her thin cheeks.

Buffy’s so easy to please. She never seems to have a problem with just being fingered by Cordelia. It’s kind of sad, really, Cordy thinks as she stops sucking on Buffy’s fingers and concentrates on her bare shoulder that’s come into range of her teeth and tongue. Angel’s tongue really feels good against hot skin, but he apparently never shared that secret with poor Buffy, who’s shuddering and tightening around her fingers.

“Oh, oh, oh!” she says, her eyes screwed shut and her mouth open wide like it’s the first orgasm she’s ever had. Cordelia keeps moving her fingers in and out, rubbing and swirling as Buffy rides out the first. She always likes to see Buffy come again, drenched in sweat and whimpering kittenishly as she does.

“That’s right, Buffy,” Cordelia coaxes her, moving her thumb roughly against the other girl’s clit. “You’re so close. Come on, Buffy, you wanna come for me.”

Buffy, practically cross-eyed, does. As Cordelia withdraws her fingers, Buffy collapses against her, slick and cooling and blissed out. Cordelia smiles indulgently.

Sweet Buffy. Ever the lone hero in a world where the big players were always wrong. Of course, she got it totally wrong this time, but the good guys were always a little clueless. And Cordelia could be doing so much worse than getting Buffy off over and over again.

Her lips brush against Buffy’s ear. “Feel good?” she murmurs, her tongue darting and tickling the skin.

“Best ever,” Buffy says hoarsely. “Your turn?”

“Yeah,” Cordelia replies, resting her hands on Buffy’s shoulders. “I want your mouth on me, Buffy. Eating me up.”

Buffy moans. “What if I do it wrong?” she asks, her fingers teasing Cordelia’s nipples into hard buttons as she rubs against her again, warming Cordelia’s skin.

“Then you’ll do it again–” Cordelia gently pushes Buffy downward, until her tongue is on a level with her breasts. Buffy very cleverly starts to lick and nibble at the curve of Cordy’s right breast, never stopping with the teasing of the left. “And again. Until your jaw is sore, if we have to.”

It wouldn’t turn _her_  on, but Buffy’s had the repressed lesbian vibe ever since Faith slithered her way into town in leather pants and red lipstick. She starts kissing her way downward until she’s reached Cordy’s curls and her slick, wet inner lips. Cordelia watches, the leftover voices in her head thinking of how long it’ll take to fully corrupt the Slayer.

Connor was easy, but Connor was a virgin and related to Angel, which meant the brain was always easily ignored. Cordelia remembers to open her legs, let Buffy begin her eager but never quite right pussy-licking. She even makes an encouraging noise.

She’ll have to keep up with the mutuality, with the vanilla-ness of it all. Cordelia longs to have Buffy cuffed to a bed, possibly somewhere wet and soft and decadent like the swamps of Louisiana, legs spread as far as they’ll go and begging Cordelia to fuck her again however she wants, wherever she wants, those tiny little breasts and sweet little pussy aching for Cordelia’s touch, pleasurable or painful.

Control. Cordelia wants control so badly that it’s almost a surprise when the blonde starts using her fingers and her tongue, trying to fill Cordy up as she laps at her clit.

“Mmm,” Cordelia moans, feeling the first genuine pleasure she’s had since she and Buffy start to move up her spine. “Harder. Give it to me harder, Buffy, lick me faster–”

Maybe it won’t take as long as she thought.

 


End file.
